He Likes Black
by Cyokie Revott
Summary: Gladion liked black, because it blinded him to everything he didn't want to see. Takes place a few days prior to Gladion running from Lusamine.


Gladion hated his mother.

It didn't matter that the Aether Foundation made all the money they'd ever need, and she was the president of it. It didn't matter that she'd introduced him to the wonderful world of Pokémon, his dearest friends and allies.

He hated his mother.

Her name was Lusamine, but he wasn't brave enough to call her that—not yet. One day, he'd have the guts to never call her _Mother_ ever again. She didn't deserve that title. She didn't get to be a mother when she'd ruined her children, beaten them black and blue with words and fists alike until they didn't have hope anymore.

No matter what, though, Gladion _did_ love his sister.

His little sister was named Lillie, and the abuse they'd suffered had made her softer and more frightened instead of harder and colder like Gladion himself. He loved her for this, because God knew he didn't want her to end up like him.

She was so, so scared, but she was still the one who told him everything would be okay and _believed it._ He'd told her the same thing countless times, but he was sure she could see through him.

He thought they would never get out.

Lillie was young and confused. She knew what Lusamine was doing wasn't right, but she was only nine and didn't understand exactly _what_ her mother was doing. He was rather happy about that, because ignorance was better than understanding, and even if she didn't, he knew that.

Gladion was twelve, and that was old enough to understand they were being brutally abused, that they should not be in that environment and should be taken away.

Yes, he would run. He would run forever, run until his legs were too sore to move, if it meant taking him away from _her._

He would run within this week, because he couldn't take it anymore. _What about Lillie?_ He often thought—but what about her? They both needed out.

Now, _how_ he would get her out with him—that was a plan for another day.

Lusamine made them wear white. It was the Aether Foundation's main aesthetic, as she thought the color beautiful and pure. But Gladion liked black, because it blinded him to everything he didn't want to see.

That was another thing— _beauty._ Lusamine loved beauty.

Gladion often thought that was ironic, because that woman was the ugliest, most repulsive thing he'd ever come across in his life.

Lusamine always found a way to cover up their wounds. She knew it would tarnish their appearances and make visitors and Aether employees question her, so she simply made them invisible. Lillie would wear dresses and Gladion would wear shorts and short sleeves, and nobody would be able to tell anything was wrong.

Their mother would get annoyed when the amount of slashes and bruises multiplied, knowing it meant more work to disguise them.

 _She has no right to be annoyed,_ Gladion always thought, _when she put them there._

But there was one thing Lusamine didn't know about her son:

Among all the injuries she'd bestowed upon him, some of them were self-inflicted as well.

Gladion stood in front of a body-length mirror of his mother's, examining the damage that had been done to his body warily. And he couldn't help thinking he deserved it.

Because although he hated her, hated her more than he thought possible, Lusamine had said _those things_ so many times— _ugly, stupid, disgusting, awful, idiot, unworthy_ —that he'd started to believe them.

Her thoughts weren't even hers anymore. They'd become his, and he knew that was what she wanted, and he wished _so badly_ that he could escape her, that his mind hadn't become hers over the years—

He ran to a nearby table, where Lillie had left one of her paint sets. (She liked art but didn't get to channel her interests very often, what with Lusamine ruining their lives and everything.)

Yes, he adored black, loved it more than any other color, and again he was reminded of why as he painted the entire mirror black, blocking out his reflection so he couldn't see himself anymore.

Someday, Gladion would run.

But for now, he refused to look at the boy before him, the boy who hadn't ran at all.


End file.
